Broken Moon
by Taivasalla
Summary: One-shot. She had always thought she was strong. But carrying his body back might break her. Shikamaru/Temari


Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any characters mentioned below. This is written entirely for entertainment. I only own the writing :)

Shikamaru/Temari, if it is not already obvious...

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Broken Moon

The rough pads of her fingers trace a slow trail down his face. The cynical eyes are closed, the harsh lines of his face softened by the stray threads of hair pulled from his ponytail. Where is Shikamaru, she wonders, for this isn't him. Shikamaru wouldn't die like this. His body is light in her arms as she scoops him up, bony and harsh. Her fan, slung across her back, feels as heavy as he does. But her fan has been heavy since she became a genin, since her winds first sliced a man apart.

Her steps are slow, and smooth. She doesn't jostle him, and cradles his head carefully against her shoulder. Occasionally, she glances down at his face. They are closer to the border of Suna than of Konoha, but it is to that soft, green land that she turns her steps.

She thinks that Shikamaru would have like the desert. It is silent, slow and unchanging, until a wind stirs it into overwhelming power. And Suna's skies have always been more beautiful than the blue in Konoha.

She isn't a dreamer, and she has no hope that he will open his eyes and smile in his apathetic way, tell her that he is just to lazy to get up and walk. She knows some shinobi who for years refuse to admit companions are dead. They speak of them as if they are just on a very long mission, and will be home soon. Her arms tighten around him. She knows death too well. And she likes to think she is too strong for that sort of weakness.

His hair is tickling her arm. His pineapple ponytail always looks so spiky, but in reality it is the texture of well-washed wool, soft and dry. A lot like her own hair, dried by the desert air and desiccating winds. She wonders why his feels that way in the humidity of Konoha. He is probably just too lazy to take care of it.

Her eyes trace the tapered lines of his eyebrows. She wonders why she has never noticed the thin white scar on his temple before. She had thought she knew every line on his face.

The trees end, and she jumps gently to the ground. The trail meanders through a bright meadow, large blooms splashing the grass with color. It looks unnatural to her; desert flowers are tiny, pale white or yellow. She walks through it resentfully, taking perverse pleasure in crushing the waving petals. They don't deserve to live. Then she wonders if Shikamaru ever walked in meadows like these, and she widens her stride, stepping over a pale purple blossom, the color of her fan's moons. When they reach the trees again, she is grateful for the shelter. Suna might not have any forests, but they were not as foreign as the flowers. And running through trees takes more attention than walking in meadows. She can avoid looking at his face.

The gate guards at Konoha stop her when she steps between the tall posts. When they see Shikamaru there is a flurry of motion, and one of them disappears. She waits patiently, still holding him tightly to her chest. His vest is crumpled, and she wonders idly how often he washes it. The Hokage—Tsunade—is the first to arrive. Closely trailing the older woman are two ninja her own age. As they come closer, the younger nin shoot ahead. A tall girl with long blond hair flings herself at her. She drapes herself across Shikamaru, sobbing. She looks at the other girl with scorn. She—Ino? Is that her name?—is acting like a fool. She holds his body tighter. She won't let that fool take him away. The boy—she doesn't recognize him—clasps Shikamaru's hand. He is crying as well. Ino's weight is becoming too much for her, as she tries to hold up both the female genin and her dead companion. She shakes off the clutching, blubbering weight. The Hokage is standing in front of her, and she raises cold eyes to the sympathetic face. Two elegant fingers reach out and brush his neck. The Hokage confirms what she already knows; has known for days. In the time of nonstop travel it took them to reach Konoha, Shikamaru has stiffened in her arms and gone limp again. The blond girl is weeping into the large boy's shoulder. She wonders why they are so sad. Shikamaru is going to wake up in a while. Isn't he?


End file.
